


i've got troubled thoughts

by notquiteaghost



Series: how the mighty fall in love [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Politics, Established Relationship, Grantaire's self-esteem issues strike again, M/M, Political Scandal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 16:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquiteaghost/pseuds/notquiteaghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire hadn't wanted to go to Courfeyrac and Eponine's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've got troubled thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> this is grantaire's POV of most of silver clouds. you definitely need to read silver clouds first. 
> 
> title is from 'what a catch, donnie' by fall out boy.

Grantaire hadn't wanted to go to Courfeyrac and Eponine's.

He'd been content to continue to wallow in self-pity and leave everyone else to their gossip (and Enjolras to his superb evasion techniques), but Feuilly had insisted. Feuilly had threatened to pick him up and carry him if he didn't go voluntarily, and Grantaire had just spent a good few hours stress-painting in Feuilly's back room, so he's come to the meeting.

The meeting, which apparently has no real purpose apart from needling Enjolras about his secret boyfriend.

Grantaire knew he shouldn't have come.

"Can't you please just tell us who it is?" Eponine begs.

Silently, Grantaire echoes her please. He's sitting right here; really, what's keeping Enjolras from just pulling in for a kiss or something? It's not like their friends would mind. Or be all that surprised.

But no. Enjolras just says, "It's none of your business. I don't go around demanding details about your personal life," because apparently, he's ashamed of Grantaire or something.

The conversation continues, with Feuilly cracking some joke and Enjolras further refusing to give up any information, but Grantaire doesn't really hear it. He's too busy being blind-sided by that last thought, because of course. Of fucking _course_.

Enjolras is ashamed of him.

Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be? He's wildly out of Grantaire's league, that much is obvious, and so much better than anything Grantaire could ever deserve. Grantaire has no idea what Enjolras sees in him, or what in hell he's getting out of their relationship.

Honestly, he's been waiting for the other shoe to drop for months now. A small part of him is almost relieved, because now they can start to move on and get on with their lives. He and Enjolras can break up, they can sweep the political scandal under the carpet, Enjolras can dominate politics unapprehended, and Grantaire can valiantly try to get over him without resorting to the bottle.

He doesn't register that he's stood up until he's already out the door, and by then, it's too late to turn around.

He hesitates briefly, but he doesn't stop moving. There's a bus stop only a couple of streets away; he can be back at Feuilly's before anyone even notices he's gone.

It'll be easier this way. That's what he's doing, he's making it easier. And if his ridiculous imagination tries to trick him into thinking he can hear Enjolras calling his name, well. That's neither here nor there.

\---

When Feuilly gets home an hour or two later, Grantaire is still painting.

The first thing Feuilly says is, "You're going to pay me back for all that paint, you know."

Grantaire shrugs, but doesn't reply. He doesn't even turn around. He doesn't need to see what kind of disappointed look Feuilly's got on his face; his imagination can conquer up several without any extra help just fine.

"Do you want to call him?" Feuilly asks, after a beat. "Or me to call him?"

Grantaire snorts. "Why would I do that? He's got far more important things to worry about than my bullshit."

Feuilly sighs. Grantaire knew he was right not to turn around. "Can I at least tell him where you are?"

"You can leave me alone to paint in peace." Grantaire says, bordering on snapping. He winces, regretting the words as soon as he's said them, and turns around to apologise just in time to see Feuilly sigh again and walk back out the door, leaving him to it.

Which is exactly what he just asked for, exactly what he wanted, so he shoves aside the cold feeling his chest and turns back to the canvas.

\---

Halfway through the second day of Grantaire's self-imposed exile, Feuilly reaches the end of his tether.

Grantaire isn't surprised; even Feuilly has a limit.

But, contrary to what Grantaire was expecting, Feuilly doesn't kick him out or confiscate his paints or demand he talk to Enjolras. Instead, Feuilly calls Enjolras himself.

He tells Enjolras that Grantaire is alive, sober, and pissed at him beyond belief. Grantaire opens his mouth to argue - he's not angry at Enjolras, he's angry at himself, there's a difference - but Feuilly doesn't let him, instead adding that no, he doesn't know why Grantaire's angry and no, Grantaire won't tell him.

Enjolras says something more, and then Feuilly mutters a goodbye and hands up. And immediately turns his full attention (and annoyance slash stubborn determination) back to Grantaire.

Grantaire, who immediately pales and excuses himself and vanishes back into the back room. Feuilly doesn't follow him. Grantaire counts it as a win.

\---

On the morning of the fourth day, Grantaire walks into the back room to discover that all of the paint is missing.

Frowning, he retraces his steps to the kitchen, where Feuilly is sat with a cup of coffee, looking suspiciously like he's lying in wait.

Sneaky bastard.

Grantaire opens his mouth to ask him what the hell he thinks he's doing, but Feuilly beats him to the punch.

"You get the paint back once you've explained what the holy fuck is going on with you." he says, simply. "You can walk out without telling me a damn thing if you want, but don't expect to ever see the inside of my back room again if you do."

"...I hate you." Grantaire says, but he takes the seat opposite him regardless.

Feuilly doesn't reply, he just raises one eyebrow expectantly. Christ, Grantaire needs better friends. Nicer friends, who know when to butt the fuck out.

Sighing, Grantaire says, "You know the whole 'Enjolras is secretly gay!' scandal thing?" Feuilly nods, his expression staying carefully blank. "Well, I'm his secret boyfriend."

"Right." Feuilly says. He doesn't look or sound surprised, but Grantaire was expecting that. "Then why are you so pissed at him?"

"I'm not pissed at him." Grantaire says, resigned. "I'm... if I'm pissed at anyone, I'm pissed at myself. I mean, who do I think I'm kidding? There's no way in hell I deserve Enjolras. I shouldn't have let it happen, and I definitely shouldn't have let it go on this long. Now his entire career's in danger, just because I'm a selfish bastard."

Feuilly stares at him for a long moment, his expression still carefully blank. Then he says, "I'm not touching your self-esteem issues with a ten-foot pole. But, there are new conditions to your continued presence in my flat." He pauses to give Grantaire a weighted look. "You're going to go talk to him. You're not going to argue, you're not going to shout, you're going to sit down and have an honest conversation with you, and you're not going to try and break up with him for his sake. Got it?"

"...Got it." Grantaire mutters.

Feuilly nods, satisfied. "Good. Now get the fuck out my flat and go make nice with your boyfriend, because I have had it to here with watching you mope."

Grantaire goes.

\---

Enjolras isn't at home.

Grantaire isn't sure why he was expecting him to be anywhere other than the office - he should know, at this point, that Enjolras only stops working when someone makes him. And, without Grantaire there to make him stop, of course he'd still be working at half nine in the evening on a Monday. Why wouldn't he be?

When he gets to Enjolras' office, it's to find Enjolras at his desk, surrounding by sheets of paper, and looking absolutely shattered. Having the entire country talk about your sexual exploits would probably do that to you.

"You weren't at home." Grantaire says, petulant, when Enjolras looks up and blinks at him in surprise.

And Enjolras doesn't stay at him, apparently content to stare at him in shock. Grantaire isn't sure what his face is doing, but he doubts it's pretty. He doesn't know why Enjolras doesn't just get it over with already.

"...I don't know what I did." Enjolras gets out, finally.

Grantaire sighs. "Of course you don't." Of course he assumes he's the problem. Of _course_.

"I'm sorry, whatever it was." Enjolras adds, his voice small and careful and Christ, why's he walking on egg shells like this? "I didn't mean to do anything, I promise."

Grantaire boggles at him, unable to find any words. That's-- The fuck? That's not the point here, not at all. The point is that Grantaire is worthless and needy and disgusting and he's fucking giving Enjolras an out here, he's handing it to him on a goddamn platter, and Enjolras is just staring at him, and what the fuck, why--

"Will you just break up with me already?" Grantaire blurts out, unable to take it any longer.

Enjolras blinks. "What."

"Get it over with!" Grantaire shouts, his voice cracking slightly. He sounds more desperate than he'd like, but what the hell, it's not like Enjolras' opinion on him matters anymore. "Just, I disappear for five damn days and you apparently just continue working like you haven't even _noticed_ , and you're so ashamed of me you can't even admit we're together to _Combeferre_ , and I'm ruining your political career, and why don't you just get rid of me already? What's taking you so long?"

"...Christ." Enjolras breathes, as understanding dawns across his face, and no, that's not how this is meant to go. "Is that what this is about? You think I'm _ashamed_ of you?"

"Why wouldn't you be?" Grantaire asks, hurt leaking into his voice despite his best efforts. "You're... _you_ , beautiful and wonderful and you're going to change the world, and I'm a mess." He chokes on a bitter laugh. "I'm an alcoholic, I'm a cynic, I ruin everything I touch. I don't know how you can bear to look at me, let alone date me."

"Come here." Enjolras says, quiet and gentle and what the fuck, seriously, what in God's name is going on? "God, Grantaire, get the fuck over here, do you even realise how much I've missed you? I was worried _sick_ , I haven't slept properly since you left and I've got no work done at all and I can't stand being home without you there and I couldn't stop thinking that any minute now the phone would ring and it would be the hospital, I was so fucking scared."

Grantaire is crossing the room before he's even fully registered Enjolras' words, because Enjolras might be talking utter nonsense, but damn him if he can ever refuse the man. Enjolras stands up and pulls him close and presses kisses into his hair, and Grantaire still doesn't really understand, but he thinks he might be starting too. Against his entire nature and expectations and attitude, he might just be starting to hope.

"You are the best thing that has ever happened to me." Enjolras tells him, and yep, there it is, spreading like wildfire through Grantaire's chest and warming him down to his toes. "I love you so much it terrifies me. And if I haven't told the press who you are yet, that's only because I wanted to ask you first. I wasn't about to out you to the world without your express permission, I'm not that insensitive."

...Oh.

"...Oh." Grantaire says.

Enjolras lifts Grantaire's chin up with one finger, forcing him to meet his eye. "I'd shout about you from the rooftops, if you'd allow it. Even if you ruin my political career. I don't give a flying fuck about my political career, as long as I have you. Understood?"

"Yeah." Grantaire's still not entirely sure of what he's hearing, or if he's not just dreaming or hallucinating or in Heaven, but he isn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He's not _that_ ridiculous. "I get it."

"Good." Enjolras says, a smile spreading across his face, and that only fans the fire in Grantaire's chest and he finds himself smiling back without thinking about it. "Now. Come home with me?"

Grantaire nods on autopilot, and Enjolras presses one final kiss to his cheek, before threading their fingers together and leading him out the room.

**Author's Note:**

> i am [here](http://notquiteaghost.tumblr.com) on tumblr. if you liked this fic, please [click my pokefarm eggs](http://pokefarm.com/user/notquiteaghost).
> 
>  ~~there is yet more of this; i'm about halfway through a prequel, and at some point will write the newspaper-article sequel.~~ sometimes we make promises then get ruined for a fandom forever by terrible people, kids. i'll never write les mis again. sorry?


End file.
